Guilt
by Sam.J.Eller
Summary: In the aftermath of a hunt gone wrong, Sam and Dean both struggle with guilt as they work to look after each other. Teenchesters. Hurt/Worried/Guilty/Sam and Protective/Caring/Guilty/Dean.
1. Chapter 1

Note: I wrote in both Sam and Dean's points of view, we start off with Sam's and then Dean's shows up (don't worry there is a nice line put in place to separate the two). Comments and reviews are so very much appreciated. Hope you like it. :)

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><p>Dean looked tired.<p>

Exhausted.

I could tell by the slump in his shoulder, the dark smudges under his eyes, and the complete lack of insults or inappropriate jokes.

And it was my fault.

My fault that he was wearing himself out, that he was spending his summer working his ass off and taking care of me.

I had screwed up.

We were on a hunt, Dean and I were running from the monster of the week, and I tripped.

Like the klutz that I am, I tripped.

The supernatural animal got a hold of my leg and snapped it in three places.

It was bad.

It took a month of casting and then weeks of physical therapy and it was the kind of injury that even Winchesters don't screw with.

On the bright side, I was getting to spend the majority of the summer in the same location, but that wasn't much when it meant Dean was stuck working all day every day to pay for the medical bills.

My medical bills.

Dad checked us into a shockingly nice hotel and paid it up for a couple months. A few weeks ago he left us all the cash he had and went out of state, chasing down a lead on the demon. Unfortunately John's money didn't last us very long, and Dean was forced to find work.

We couldn't use insurance fraud because this wasn't a patch-and-run situation, even Dad agreed with that. So we had to pay out of pocket for all the appointments, meds, and physical therapy.

It was expensive.

Really fricken expensive.

Dean was working eight hours a day, and usually had some overtime added to that. The only day he ever had off was Sunday, most of which he'd spend sleeping or hanging out with me. Every morning before work he drove me to physio and then brought me back to the hotel before heading off to the movie theatre where he had a job as a janitor.

I frowned, turning my head to the right and staring at Dean sprawled across his bed.

He was so tired, hadn't even bothered changing when he got home. I pretended not to hear him when he came in late, knowing that he would feel bad if he woke me. My brother had entered the room, locked the door, checked the salt-line, pulled the blanket up further over me, and then collapsed onto his bed. Dean hadn't even bothered to remove his shoes, I observed, my frown becoming deeper as my guilt grew.

No eighteen year old should have that much responsibility.

I shook my head with a sigh and began to carefully shimmy off the end of the bed.

I was glad the cast had finally been removed last week, but my leg still hurt like hell and I had to use either crutches or a cane. I preferred the cane, it was much less cumbersome, but the crutches caused less pain.

My two options were leaning up against the wall beside me, and I debated them both before reaching out for the cane and slowly leveraging myself up off the mattress. I bit back the groan of pain my body desired to release as I came to a standing position and limped heavily towards the bathroom.

I entered the acceptably clean washroom and closed the door softly behind me, trying not to wake my brother. I did my best to relieve myself and brush my teeth without falling over. Everything went smoothly until I attempted to wash my hands. I leaned the cane against the sink and balanced on one leg as I turned the taps on, but as I reached for the soap my cane was knocked to the ground. I rolled my eyes in frustration.

"Typical." I muttered under my breath, drying off before grabbing onto the counter with one hand and stretching down to the ground with the other.

Crouching down was a difficult thing to do with the use of only one leg, and it was made even more complicated by my inability to bend the right one. I may have finally gotten rid of that stupid cast, but it was replaced with a leg brace that forced the injured limb to remain in an entirely extended position.

The doctor's called it a brace, I thought of it more as a plastic torture device.

I almost had the cane in my grasp, when I lost my very delicate balance, and hit the floor, hard.

"Shit." I hissed between clenched teeth, my hands wrapping around my thigh, holding my leg steady and willing the pain to go away.

Less than a second later a loud knock sounded on the door.

"Sammy? You alright in there."

Dean, his voice gruff from sleep and laced with concern.

"Yeah. I'm fine." I groaned, taking deep breaths as I continued to grip the aching limb.

"You don't sound alright." Dean said, I could tell that his hand was on the doorknob, already turning it part way.

I tried to get back to my feet, so that I wouldn't appear so pathetic when Dean came bursting into the room like I knew he was eager to do. It wasn't happening, I gave up trying to stand and slumped back against the wall.

"I uuhh… I need some help Dean." Before I finished speaking the door was already swinging open. My older brother immediately scanned the room, his eyes quickly finding me stretched out on the floor.

"You fall?" He asked, immediately stepping closer, his gaze scrutinizing as he checked me over.

I nodded.

"You okay?" My brother questioned, looking pointedly at my braced leg.

"Yeah." I sighed, reaching up and holding onto his forearms as he got a firm grip on my elbows.

"On three." Dean said, waiting for my nod of agreement before counting it out slowly and pulling me to my feet.

I bit back a groan for the second time that morning and grabbed the cane my older brother placed in my hand.

The older teen maintained a steadying hold as I found my balance.

"You good?"

I nodded, indicating I was able to keep myself vertical for the time being.

Dean left a hand on my elbow as I limped from the room, not removing his touch until I was seated on my bed.

"Sorry for waking you." I apologized sincerely.

Dean shrugged, as if it was nothing, as if he wasn't in desperate need of some rest.

"You've got to be more careful man. You don't want to break that leg again."

I nodded, because of course he was right. The last thing we needed was more hospital bills.

"You take your meds yet?" My brother asked.

"Not yet." I replied. "But I can—

Before I could offer to get them myself, Dean was already returning with the pill bottle and a glass of water.

I eyed the meds nervously.

They were the new ones we just got this week. Now that the cast was off and I was in physio, my leg was experiencing a different kind of pain, due to the stretching of the muscles and what not.

These particular drugs made me nauseous, one of their numerous side-effects. Normally I wouldn't complain, because I'll take an upset stomach over that kind of pain any day, but as it turns out, puking is much more difficult to do when you've got your leg trapped in a brace; and even the drugs kept the muscles in the injured limb from seizing, they didn't do a lot to help the pain of twisting or smacking it against the multiples surfaces in the cramped bathroom.

"Come on Sammy." Dean encouraged, eyeing me as he returned the pill bottle to the kitchen table.

"It's Sam." I corrected sulkily, popping the drug into my mouth and chasing it down with the water.

"Your appointment is in an hour. You want something to eat?" My brother asked, appearing in front of me to take the glass.

I cringed at the thought of food, or more the thought of the reappearance I knew the food would make.

"You've got to eat dude." Dean reminded me.

I sighed, knowing he wouldn't let me skip breakfast.

"Just some toast would be fine."

Dean rolled his eyes, but moved back towards the kitchen to fix it for me anyways.

I took the opportunity of finally being out of his line of sight to try my best to get dressed. This hotel actually had a full kitchen, a television and sofa, as well as a bathroom, two queen-sized beds, and a dresser. The entire room was clean and comfortable, and for the first time in a while Dean and I had actually bothered to unpack.

I grabbed my cane and limped my way over to the dresser holding my clothes, pulling out a clean t-shirt, fresh boxers, and the pair of sweatpants I always wore to physical therapy.

It was summer, and a little too warm out to be wearing sweatpants, but the hospital was always chilly and usually at some point during the appointment my entire leg would be wrapped in ice, so I got cold.

I changed my shirts and then carefully pulled off my sleep pants, struggling into my boxers, panting from frustrated exertion once I finally got them on.

"Hey Sammy you—What the hell are you doing?"

I startled at Dean's entrance and then scowled back down at the sweatpants I was trying to tug on over top of my leg brace.

"What's it look like?" I bit out.

"It looks like you are not being more careful like I told you to be all of ten minutes ago." My older brother replied, marching over and setting the toast on my bedside table before coming to lean over me.

"Here let me help." He offered.

"Dean I can do it!" I snapped, regretting the harsh tone of my voice, but not the irritation.

"I'm sure you can." He responded without hesitation as he lightly slapped my hands away and pulled my sweatpants onto my leg, being as gentle as possible when stretching them over my braced leg. The older teen stopped once they reached my thigh, eyeing me, eyebrow up, silently asking if I could handle it from there.

I nodded with a roll of my eyes, because duh I can pull my own pants on.

Dean snickered and left for the kitchen, returning a minute later with a glass full of orange juice. He waited until I was seated against the headboard and then placed my breakfast on my lap.

"Thanks." I said, soft and honest.

My brother sent me a small smile before grabbing some clothes and heading to the bathroom.

"I'm going to grab a shower. I want all that gone by the time I get out." He informed me waiting for acknowledgement before closing the door.

I looked down at the toast, a small smile crossing my face as I noticed the strawberry jam spread across it. I had commented yesterday that my stomach couldn't handle peanut butter, but it was the only condiment we had. Dean must have picked up jam on his way back from work yesterday.

My brother always took care of me.

I winced as the guilt hit me, because he really shouldn't have to.

He's only eighteen, he should be out going to bars and hanging out with girls, not working his ass off so he can look after me, his snot nosed little brother.

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><p>Sam was in pain.<p>

I could see it in the lines on his face and in his tense posture.

I could see it in the fake smile he threw my way as he accomplished another set of exercises.

And it was my fault.

Every flinch, wince, and gasp was my fault.

I had let him fall, had allowed some fucking monster to snap his leg.

I thought he was right on my heels, it wasn't until I heard Sammy's piercing cry of pain that I found out he had fallen.

I should have been running behind him, I always brought up the rear.

Why the hell had I been upfront?

I shook my head in disgust with myself, before plastering an enthused smile on my face when Sam looked over at me.

The doc had told me how important it was for Sam to have someone to come and encourage him through physio. It was mandatory that my little brother have a guardian at his appointments so that they could take note and aid him with the exercises at home. The doctor was surprised when I was the one who showed up with Sam the next day, and it took a good half an hour to convince him that I was indeed the kid's legal guardian. I had gotten those papers signed on my eighteenth birthday and surprisingly it hadn't taken much of an argument to get my father to sign partial custody of Sammy over to me. Both John and I knew that the possibility of him not returning from a hunt was a strong one, and if it happened, it would be easier for everyone if I already had legal guardianship of my little brother.

I cringed as Sam gasped in pain, his body shaking with exhaustion as he fought to extend his leg against the pressure of the weight.

"You can do it Sammy. Just one more time." I stated confidently.

I watched with pride as the young teen set his jaw in pure Winchester determination, and straightened his injured limb, shoving the weighted mechanism forward, breathing heavily once he accomplished the task.

Sam pushed his hair off his face, his bangs wet with perspiration as he breathed deeply, hands clenching onto the handle bars of the workout machine chair.

"You did great Sam. We'll get you set up on the bed over there and then we'll ice your leg. After that you can head home. Sound good?" The Doc asked, sounding a tad too cheerful.

The middle aged man leaned down to help my little brother up, but before he got a hold on him I stepped in between the two.

"I'll get him to the bed Doc, how about you go grab the ice." I heard Sam snicker behind me as the doctor gave me a questioning look before nodding in agreement and leaving the room.

"What's so funny?" I questioned my little brother as I turned around and slid my hands under his armpits to get a grip.

"You totally just ordered him around." Sam explained, dimples appearing as he stared up at me.

"I did not." I denied counting to three and lifting the teen from his seated position.

I frowned at the groan Sammy released when I pulled him up and held him vertical, glancing around the room in search for the cane.

"He put it over there."

I looked in the direction my brother pointed, spotting the object leaning against the last exercise machine that had been used.

"I'll grab it after I get you to the bed." I replied simply, bending down and pulling the teens arm over my shoulders. The height difference between the two of us didn't make it easy, but Sam managed to hop on one foot as I guided him across the room, turning him carefully and helping him onto the bed. My brother settled himself and I went to grab his cane, bringing it back with me and standing by his side.

"You did good today man." I complimented, messing up the kid's long shaggy hair.

"Yeah right." Sam snorted, swatting my hand off his head.

"I'm serious."

"I could barely handle it, those weights were like fifteen pounds Dean." He grumbled in disappointment.

"This is your first week kiddo, you just got your cast off. Give it some time."

Sam nodded reluctantly.

This kid, always way too hard on himself.

The doc returned, several large ice packs in his hands.

"Now Samuel, I noticed that you have been using the cane. I thought we discussed last time that the crutches would be better, especially so soon after your cast was removed." The doctor declared, voice level as he covered the icy items in towels and wrapped them around my little brother's leg.

I smirked at the glare Sam sent the man while he wasn't looking.

"The cane is just a lot easier." The teen explained lamely, a slight shiver running through him as his skin absorbed the cold.

"I understand that, but it is meant to be used in a couple weeks when you have more strength and mobility. If you have to use it now it would be best to only utilize the cane for short periods of time. Do you understand?"

Sam's authority issues must have been going crazy, I thought as I watched him clenching his jaw.

"Don't worry Doc, I'll make sure he doesn't use the cane too much." I declared, stepping in to diffuse the situation before my little brother lost his patience.

The older man looked my way, taking in the serious expression written across my face and nodded in satisfaction.

"Alright Samuel, leave the ice on for ten more minutes and then you are free to go. I want you to continue those stretches I showed you at home and I will see you on Monday."

Sam nodded his understanding and sent the doctor a small smile of appreciation.

"Hey doc." I called out, stopping the man before he could leave.

"The meds you prescribed, they are making Sammy sick." I said.

"Nausea is a side-effect." He stated.

"Yeah, they're making him throw-up, and with his leg all splint like that, well, it hurts him." I explained, attempting to keep the worry from my tone, but judging by the sympathetic look on the man's face, my attempt failed miserably.

"There a different drug I could prescribe, it should help relax the muscles and ease the pain like the other one, but without such intense side effects." The Doc described as he pulled out his prescription pad and began writing.

"Try this." He said, tearing off the slip of paper and handing it to me.

"Thanks Doc." I replied.

The older man nodded and left the room.

Sammy and I waited impatiently for the ten minutes to end, the kid was shivering by the sixth.

"You cold?" I asked, already knowing the truth, as well as the fact that the answer was going to be the complete opposite.

As I had assumed, Sam shook his head indicating the negative, even while another shiver ran through him.

I rolled my eyes and instantly removed my plaid over-shirt, wrapping it around my brother's shoulders pretending not to notice a second later, after his dramatic sigh, that he slipped his arms through the sleeves and pulled the fabric tighter across his chest.

At the tenth minute on the dot I immediately began removing the ice-packs from around Sam's leg.

"Your ready to blow this popsicle stand?" I enquired as I helped Sam climb off of the bed.

"Oh yeah." The kid responded through gritted teeth as he delicately set his right leg on the floor.

"You should have brought your crutches." I halfheartedly scolded as I handed my brother his cane.

"They are too big."

"I can adjust them again, though I'm not sure how much shorter they can go you little midget." I mocked as I slowed my steps in order to keep pace with the young teen trying desperately not to fall behind.

We stopped at the pharmacy on our way out. I handed in the new prescription and waited for them to fill it, keeping an eye on the boy standing off to the side, not failing to notice the way he shifted uncomfortably, trying his best to keep weight off his injured leg.

"That will be one-hundred and seventy-five dollars."

I gaped at the price and turned my attention to the pharmacist.

"What?" I asked, hoping to hell that she had made a mistake.

"One-hundred and seventy-five dollars." The woman recited again.

I pulled out my wallet and fumbled through it.

Fifty-three dollars, that was it, that was every penny I possessed.

"I uhh, I don't have that much cash on me right now. Could I give you what I have and then pay the rest later?" I asked.

"No, sorry. That's not an option."

"But I get paid after my sift today. I could come right here after work and..."

"I can hold the medication for you until then, but I need either health insurance or payment in full before I can give it to you." She responded flatly.

"But my brother needs them for today." I specified, my temper rising.

"Then you will need to pay in full now."

"Lady I don't think you're getting it." I ground out.

"Dean-

The soft call of my name caught my immediate attention, the way it always had.

I looked to my left to see Sam looking up at me, those hazel eyes staring intently into mine.

"It's okay, I can wait until later."

"Sam-

"No, really. It's fine. We still have the other meds."

"Yeah dude, but they make you sick." I reminded the teen.

"I feel fine. I ate this morning and I haven't thrown up or anything." Sam declared in complete confidence.

A part of me knew that my little brother was lying, but it's not like I had a lot of options, so I chose to believe his assurances and let the matter drop.

"Fine, but I'm coming back here right after work today." I promised, sliding my wallet into my back pocket and grabbing the prescription off the counter top.

I sent the pharmacist a hateful glare before turning to leave, walking at about half the speed I wanted to so that Sam could keep up.

I swallowed down my feelings of anger and complete incompetency as I helped Sam into the passenger side of the Impala.

"You sure you don't want to stretch out in the back?" I asked him, the same way I did every time he had gotten into the vehicle since getting his cast off. When Sam's busted leg was wrapped in plaster the kid had had not choice but to ride in the back, but now that it was just in a brace he would insist on the front, even though I could clearly see how awkward and uncomfortable of a position it was.

"I'm sure." My little brother replied, a lightness in his voice. I knew that happier tone was for my benefit, because the kid could probably tell how pissed I was at myself for not being able to afford the drugs.

Sam shouldn't be trying to make things better for me.

I should be making things better for him.

That was my job.

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><p>Note: The second half will be appearing shortly, definitely some time tomorrow...because I seem to be writing like a ninja as of lately... Thank you so much for reading! It would mean a lot to me if you could please reviewcomment! - Sam


	2. Chapter 2

Note: This is what I do during university lectures...because I clearly have my priorities in the proper order. Let me know what you think!

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><p>We drove back to the hotel in tense silence.<p>

Any attempt I made at conversation received nothing more than a grunt from my older brother.

Not that I could blame him. He was tired, he had to get up early to take me to my appointment, and now he had to head off to work. As if all that wasn't enough, he now had to waste half of his paycheck on my medicine.

How could he not be ticked?

I had also seen the way my brother's face paled when he realized he didn't have enough cash for the new meds and I knew that he wasn't only furious with the situation and that pharmacist, but also with himself. I knew that I would have to find someone to convince him that it wasn't his fault...without saying those exact words, because he would shrug them off and tell me not to start a chick-flick moment.

Angry or not, Dean was nothing but gentle when he helped me leverage myself out of the Impala and patiently followed me into the hotel room.

I collapsed onto the couch, letting my cane fall to the floor and turned on the tv, trying to look occupied so that Dean didn't feel bad for leaving me for the day. Because no matter how ridiculous it was, I knew that he felt guilty for going to work all day and leaving me alone, cooped up in the room.

My older brother threw on his work clothes and then dropped down on the other end of the couch.

"Your meds are on the kitchen table, don't forget to take them at lunch and again at dinner."

I nodded obediently, refraining from rolling me eyes like I really wanted to.

"There's a sandwich in the fridge for your lunch and the soup that you didn't eat from last night is in there as well, just throw it in the microwave and you can have it for dinner." Dean instructed as he pulled on his shoes.

I nodded again, physically biting my tongue so I wouldn't remind my older brother that I was fourteen years-old and entirely capable of making my own sandwich and heating soup.

Dean released a loud yawn as he tugged on his last shoe, and a pang of guilt went through me.

It's my fault he was so tired.

It was my fault he had to work so hard.

It was completely unfair.

"Alright, you sure you're good here." He questioned, and there was not doubt in my mind, that had I said no, Dean would have done whatever necessary to make it okay.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just going to watch some T.V., maybe do some reading."

That got a smirk out of my older brother.

"You have got to be the only kid who reads during summer break." He said, shaking his head in amusement.

"Well at least I can read." I replied lamely, eager for some cheerful banter.

Dean snorted a laugh as he stood, grabbing his keys and making his way to the door, but before he left he turned back to me.

"Call if you need me." He ordered.

"I will."

"I mean it Sammy."

"I will, and it's Sam."

That got me another smirk.

"Whatever short-stuff." He responded, closing the door behind him.

I lay back on the couch and listened to the Impala rumble it's way out of the parking lot. I smiled, satisfied that I was able to get some sort of entertained response out of my exhausted older brother.

The day was essentially identical to the month of days before it. I watched T.V., re-read some old textbooks, re-read the magazines Dean brought home for my last week, did my assigned stretches, and hobbled aimlessly around the hotel room. I wanted to go outside and get some fresh air, but Dad and Dean had blatantly expressed their displeasure with that idea multiple times since I broke my leg. Both of them were concerned with what people might think when they saw an injured fourteen year old (who looked even younger) wondering around a hotel alone all day. The last thing we needed was Child Protective Services knocking on the door.

The realization that it was only noon had me releasing an exasperated sigh of boredom.

I made my way over to the kitchen table, looking down at the meds I knew i had to take, even though I really didn't want to. I dumped out one of the pills and popped it into my mouth, dry swallowing it, something Dean never let me do, always saying that it wasn't good for my throat or something, but in reality I think it just distressed him that I'd gotten so good at it.

I made my way over to the fridge, staring into the nearly empty appliance. My two meal options on the top shelf, no doubt placed there so they would be easy access. I felt a smile pull at my lips.

Dean.

Always looking after me.

I selected the soup, with hopes that it would go down nicer.

Some shit decision that was.

Less than forty-five minutes after I tried to choke down some lunch I felt it turning in my stomach.

I almost face-planted three times on my rush to the bathroom, the liquid burning it's way up my esophagus.

I tried to go down carefully when I made it to the toilet, but the aggressive heaving made that difficult. My braced leg slid out from under me and I landed hard on my knees, my cry of pain stunted by the hurling.

I was to busy emptying my stomach to work on fixing the position of my injured leg, but I could feel the brace pulling in protest to its bent position and though I tried my best to keep my weight on my left knee, that was made difficult by my violent hurling.

I hadn't noticed anyone had entered the hotel room until I felt a hand on my back. My hunter vigilance skills were obviously lacking, but I was in too much pain to care; as it turns out, soup burned even more coming up than it did going down. Between that and the agony in my leg, I wasn't surprised I didn't hear someone come in.

I didn't panic, recognizing the touch on my back as soon as I felt it.

"Ah shit Sammy." The quiet explanation hardly loud enough to be heard over the sound of my heaving.

I didn't object as a strong arm hooked around my chest and lifted up a little, taking my weight off my knees and leaning me over the toilet as a coughed up all that I had left, which at this point was nothing more than some stomach acid.

My aching leg was manoeuvred from it's crooked position and extended out to the side. It was still a stretch, and very uncomfortable, but at least it eased a fraction of the agony.

I blindly reached back and grabbed a fistful of my brother's jeans, my body shaking as it was assaulted with another round of dry heaving.

"It's alright buddy. I got you." Dean promised softly as he swiped a hand across my forehead, sliding my sweaty bangs to the side while he proceeded to hold me over top of the porcelain bowl.

Eventually the nausea eased, my stomach empty of all content and I deflated tiredly against my older brother.

Dean went with it, reaching over me to flush the toilet and then pulling me back to set me up against the wall.

I released my grip on his pants as he moved to straighten my leg into a more comfortable position and then went over to the sink. My brother returned a moment later with a glass of water and a damp facecloth.

"Small sip." He instructed.

I nodded knowingly, taking the glass and sipping just enough to remove the revolting taste from my mouth. He took the glass back and set it behind him on the floor; then Dean took the cloth and rubbed it over my face, wiping the sweat off my skin.

Normally my independent streak would have come alive and I wouldn't have allowed my brother to perform such a basic task for me, but I was to worn out and in too much pain to give a crap. So I sat compliantly as my brother cleaned me up.

I sighed as the cool cloth was guided around back of my neck, but gave a quizzical look to my brother as he rubbed at my cheeks, wondering in complete embarrassment if I had managed to get barf that far up my face.

Dean must have seen the question in my eyes.

"You were crying." He explained simply, his voice low in a tone that many would misinterpret as anger, but I knew it for what it was, distress. I also knew that if there had been a living reason for my tears, Dean would have ripped it's lungs out.

I wasn't surprised I had been crying, the ache in my leg still a prominent reminder of the agony that had recently been radiating through it; that, plus all the hurling...crying didn't seem very far-fetched.

I had never been, and probably would never be the most stoic member of the Winchester family.

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><p>I stood and tossed the washcloth into the sink and asked Sam if he was ready to get up, but the kid made no response, seemingly lost in his thoughts, or just to tired to have heard me.<p>

I squatted down in front of the young teen, his wondering gaze finding me.

"What?" He croaked, realizing that he had missed something.

"You good to get up? I think the bed would be a lot comfier."

Sam released a tired sigh as he nodded his head and immediately began trying to climb to his feet.

"Whaoh, take it easy buddy, take it easy." I said, grasping my little brother's thin arms and helping him stand before he hurt himself.

Deep lines of pain filled the teens young face as he put a hand on the thigh of his right leg and his breathing became unsteady.

I shook my head, because this just wasn't going to work.

I bent down and wrapped one arm around Sam's back and another behind his knees, being careful with his injured leg as I lifted him into my arms.

"Dean, what the hell?" Sam rasped, his throat raw.

"Just relax Samantha." I quipped, trying not to mock the kid to heavily while adding some lightness to the moment.

Sam huffed, but made no further protest, which was proof of how much he was hurting.

I walked over to the bed furthest from the door and easily set my younger brother onto it. That kid was too small and too thin for his own good, looking to be all of twelve, but his lack of weight didn't hurt in moments like this, I thought distractedly.

"How's your leg?" I questioned, watching the Sam's entire body tense up as I lightly rolled his sweatpants up so I could take a look.

"It's fine." My little brother dismissed.

"Bullshit." I called.

"It throbs a little." Sam admitted after a moment.

I nodded, inspecting the limb and seeing no evidence of any new damage.

"You're sure? Doesn't feel like anything is re-broken?"

"I'm sure, just soar." The teen assured me.

"What are you doing home?" He enquired, watching as I rolled his pant-leg back down over the brace.

"It's my lunch break. I just wanted to check up on you." I answered simply, with no intention of admitting to the fact that I had done this everyday since I got the job. I would take my lunch break to drive back to the hotel and check on my kid. Usually I would just peak in the window, seeing him sleeping or reading and then head back, because I only had fifteen minutes and the drive took seven. Today I had peaked in the window and my little brother had been no where in sight, my eyes had immediately travelled to the bathroom, noticing the door open and seeing his body curled over the toilet. I shook my head, attempting to physically rid of the image of the young teen white-knuckling the porcelain as he heaved and cried.

"I should have bought those fucking meds." I muttered, freshly pissed with myself.

"You couldn't Dean." Sam stated, doing what he always did, ensuring that I was not to blame

I swear if this kid had it his way, I wouldn't be at fault for anything ever.

"I'll pick them up today." I vowed, moving back to the bathroom to grab the cane that had been discarded on the floor and leaning it up against the wall by the bed.

"You should be using your crutches." I admonished.

"Yeah sure, cause they would have gotten me to the bathroom on time." Sam snorted.

I didn't bother to argue with that.

"You need anything?" I asked.

"No, don't you have to get back to work?"

"You trying to get rid of me?" I questioned, eyebrow raised, faking amusement so that I could avoid the fact I really didn't want to leave Sam alone for the rest of the day.

A small dimply smile spread across my little brother's face and I was reminded once again how much I fucking loved this kid.

"I'll be alright Dean." The teen informed me, as though he could read my mind while staring up at me with those stupid puppy dog eyes.

The eyes that never failed to make my heart clench.

"I'll be back by six."

Sam quirked an eyebrow in response.

"No overtime?" He questioned.

"Not today, I'm getting off in time to go pick up your meds and then I will come straight back here."

Sam started shaking his head half way through my answer.

"I don't need-

"Yes Sam, you do." I declared, leaving no room for the stubborn little shit to argue.

My teenage brother sent me a classic eye roll, making me smirk.

"Call me-

"If i need anything, i know."

Sam finished petulantly.

I laughed in amusement as I left the room, locking the door behind me and heading towards to the Impala, grimacing when I saw the time, and hoping that I wouldn't get fired.

I couldn't get fired.

I had a little brother to look after.

* * *

><p>I waited until I head the Impala drive off before curling up in bed and closing my eyes.<p>

The pain and hurling left me feeling drained and tired, but I didn't want Dean to know, because if he was ever going to leave, he had to be positive that I was perfectly okay.

I was glad that Dean wasn't working over time, he needed rest more than I did, but I hated that all the money he was earning would be going towards my medication and hospital bills.

I promised myself at that moment that the first chance I got, I would make some cash and buy Dean something awesome, maybe tickets to a Metallica concert.

I fell to asleep with a smile on my face, satisfied with my future plan.

I did not wake in the same peaceful manner.

My leg was in agony, every nerve on fire.

I gasped awake, jerked in to consciousness by the pain tearing through me.

Sitting up I struggled to control my breathing as I held onto the injured limb, feeling it shutter under my touch as I hastily tugged up my pant leg.

The limb looked fine, the brace still in place, but I could see all the muscles hidden beneath my skin twitching violently.

I realized what was happening.

The doc had warned me about what would happen if I didn't do my stretches or take the medication, my leg would seize, due to the stress of physio and it's weakness form the injury.

I had only done my stretches once today...and to say that I half-assed them would be generous. I had taken my pill as well, but I doubt that it was effective after being brought back up.

I looked across the room where the bottle was sitting on the kitchen table and groaned, because it might as well have been on the other side of the country.

Through a series of shifts and slides, accompanied by multiple gasps and groans, I made it off the bed. Clenching my jaw as I tugged my injured leg along with me. It felt as though every single muscle was screaming, like I had run a marathon...on a broken leg.

I grabbed hold of my cane, clenching it so hard I thought my fingers might break.

I managed about four steps away from the bed, barely one third of the distance I needed to travel, before I went down. My body was shaking so hard that when I went to place my weight on the cane, my elbow gave way and I fell, crying out as I connected hard with the ground. This was the first time I ever wished there was a sketchily stained carpet to ease my landing, instead of the hardwood that had taken its place.

I attempted to stand a couple times, but it hurt so much that I gave up and lied down on the floor, curling around my injured leg and silently begging for Dean to return.

As though my older brother heard my muted call (which wouldn't be shocking, he seemed to have a sixth sense when it came me), he entered the room.

"Hey I picked up your- Sammy!"

I lifted my head off the hard floor to look up at my brother, watching as he hurried toward me and dropped down onto his knees.

"Your leg?" He asked steadily, eyes scanning over me.

I nodded, clearly the scene wasn't all that difficult to piece together.

Receiving my confirmation Dean carefully rolled me onto my back and slid my pant-leg up.

I watched his face twist in confusion as he stared at the limb and lightly touched my skin.

"It's seizing...the muscles are seizing." I bit out in explanation.

Realization dawned on my older brother's face as he to recalled the doctor's warning.

"Shit." He cursed, getting to his feet and grabbing the glass of water he had left on my side-table.

"Here, take this." Dean ordered quietly, slipping my newly prescribed pills form his pocket and dropping one into his hand. A large hand cradled the back of my head and lifted it further off the floor so I could swallow the medication.

"It should start to work soon." My brother declared confidently as he swiped my long bangs off my face.

"I'm going to carry you back to the bed." He announced, already lifting me off the hardwood before I could bother to protest.

"You're lucky your ass is light." Dean commented as he walked back to my bed.

"No, you're lucky my ass is light." I quipped, my voice shaky as I failed to hide a wince when I was set back down on the mattress.

I hadn't realized that I had been holding tightly to the amulet until Dean tugged on it lightly as he tried to straighten out.

"Sorry." I muttered.

My brother ruffled my hair in reply, his face lined in concern when he stared at my hands, as I held fistfuls of the blanket underneath me.

"What can I do Sammy?" Dean asked me, his offer genuine as he leaned in closer.

I breathed deeply, jaw clenched as i tried to get a hold on the agony in my leg.

I shrugged in response, partly because I didn't know what else my brother could possibly do for me, and partly due to my worry that if I attempted speech I would end up releasing something pathetic, like a whimper.

Not that it mattered, because a second later, an intense cramp took hold of the muscle in my shin and a horribly sounding guttural gasp came from my throat.

That sent Dean into action. He climbed up on the bed, kneeling by my legs and rolled my sweatpants up out of the way, about to place his hand on my leg,.

"Dean don't!" I begged, my voice cracking, terrified at the idea of more pain.

"Just trust me kiddo."

I nodded, giving my consent, because it was Dean, of course I trusted him.

He began using his hands to massage my leg, kneading the muscles that he could reach, the ones not covered by the brace.

I tensed up, ready for the pain, surprised at how short lived it was. I sighed loudly after a moment, feeling the muscles in my leg begin to relax as my brother rubbed at them.

"I'm sorry." I said, a few minutes later, voice cracking as I hissed in pain when Dean began or rub his knuckles into my spasmodic thigh muscle.

"For what?" He asked me distractedly, as he worked to ease the tense limb.

"Oh gee, I don't know. Being a wuss, face-planting twice in one day, being the reason you have to spend all your time working...sorry for being a klutz and cause all this to begin with."

The hands working my muscles stilled as Dean looked up at me, eyes wide and an almost glowing green. He looked both parts shocked and pissed.

"What the hell Sam?!" He barked, I squinted at him, opening and closing my mouth like a fish out of water, unsure of what it was he wanted me to say.

"You seriously think this is your fault?" The question was loud and harsh, leaving me in even more confusion.

Dean waited for me to respond this time.

"Well...I mean...Yes." I stuttered out, at a loss at how to ease my older brother's sudden anger.

"You're fucking kidding me right?!" Another harsh-sounding question to which I elected not to respond.

Dean stared into me eyes and I looked into his, waiting for some sort of clue to what I had done to set him off.

My older brother must have recognized my confusion, because the he took a deep breath and ran his hand over his face and through his hair, something he often did when he was searching for patience or at a loss for words.

"Look man, none of this is your fault. Not the medical bills or what happened on the hunt."

"But it is! I fell behind and I tripped, I-

"I left you behind and you fell." Dean corrected darkly, and I quickly realized that the fury in his expression was not aimed at me.

"You didn't leave me. You were right there."

"I was in front of you, I should have been behind."

"I should have kept up." I confessed miserably.

"Don't be an idiot Sam. You were running as fast as you could. Your legs are half the size of mine, you can't be expected to keep up, I should have slowed down."

I wanted to argue. To tell Dean that he shouldn't have to slow down just to run behind me and risk being eaten, but I knew that wouldn't work, not on my over-protective, self-sacrificing older brother. So instead I utilized my only other strategy to ease his guilt, humour.

"My legs aren't that small." I sulked, crossing my arms petulantly for added effect.

Dean smirked.

"Man, you're practically a midget."

I scowled in reply, secretly pleased to see a few of the lines on my brother's face fade, hopefully along with some of his internal anger.

"How's your leg?" He asked, looking down at the limb.

I realized that I had momentarily forgotten about it.

"Much better." I answered honestly, my muscles no longer seized, only a dull ache left behind.

"Good." Dean nodded, yawning shortly after, which brought my attention to his tired posture and shadowed eyes.

"You should get some rest." I pointed out softly.

My brother sent me a confused squint in response.

"It's only like six-thirty man. We haven't even had dinner yet."

"Well I'm not all that hungry-

"Those meds making you queezy, cause the doc said-

"It's not that. I feel fine, I swear. I'm just not hungry right now. So why don't you grab some shut-eye and we can eat later." I suggested, hoping Dean would agree, because he needed some rest.

"It's not even dark out."

"But you're tired." I pointed calmly, careful not to sound acusatory.

Dean shrugged, glancing around the room for a moment.

"Maybe I'll just lay down for an hour."

I nodded my approval.

"When I wake up I'll go grab us some grub." The older teen announced as he climbed off my bed and dropped down onto his.

"Sounds good."

"If you need anything just ask alright? I'm tired of carrying your princess ass all over the place."

I rolled my eyes, biting my tongue to keep from informing Dean that I had never once asked to be carried like a baby.

"And Sammy." He called, lifting his head from his face down position on the mattress., waiting for my gaze to meet his before he continued.

"This isn't your fault. None of it." He stated adamantly, a stern look on his face, as though he was daring me to argue, which I was tempted to do. But my brother was tired and there was not point in us bickering about something that would never change.

Dean would always blame himself when something bad happened to me.

He would always feel guilty for not protecting me, even when it's not possible.

And that was just our reality.

So I nodded my understanding.

A satisfied look settled on Dean's face and he let his head fall back onto the mattress, eyes closing as soon as it landed.

I shook my head in frustration.

One day I would find a way to convince my older brother that everything that happened to me was not his fault, but that day wouldn't be today.

I picked up a magazine off my night stand, the National Geographic one Dean had brought me, and began flipping through the already read pages.

I smiled to myself when I thought of my plans to make it up to my brother.

Metallica tickets.

It wasn't nearly enough, but it would be a good start.

A good start at showing my brother that I knew how much he did for me.

I glanced over at Dean and swallowed down the lump that appeared in my throat as I watched the tired man stretch out on the bed.

The young adult with his inappropriate humour and annoying qualities.

His loud taste in music and his stupid habit of always taking the blame.

The person in this world I loved the most.

My protector.

My big brother.

Dean.

* * *

><p>I felt sleep pulling at me as I lied stretched out over the bed. My body relaxed into the shockingly comfortable mattress and I mentally thanked Dad for springing for a nicer hotel and paying two months in advance. At least now I know that Sammy is comfortable and in no danger of contracting some sort of disease when I leave him cooped up in the room every day all day. That gives me one less thing to worry about.<p>

Guilt shot through me as I recalled what my littler brother had said, how he had thought that this was all his fault. How he had blamed himself for not only getting hurt, but fore requiring expensive treatment.

What the hell was wrong with that kid?

How could he possibly take blame for not being able to out-run a possessed coyote?

How could he not blame me for leaving him behind.

Oh right, because he's Sam.

Samuel Winchester and his stupid guilt complex.

It's not his fault that he didn't have super-human speed, or that his leg got snapped into pieces.

It's not his fault that he needed a cast and physical therapy and it sure as hell isn't his fault that we don't always have enough money for things like medicine.

He's only fourteen years old.

And fourteen year old's shouldn't be worried about this kind of shit.

I frowned in frustration, wishing, not for the first time, that Sam could just be a normal kid.

I opened one eye, peeking over at my little brother and smirking as the dork flipped through the magazine he must have read one hundred times by now.

God I loved this kid.

I loved him so fucking much it hurt.

I would make things better for him, whatever it took.

For dinner tonight I will get some of that Chinese food he likes, or maybe a Hawaiian pizza.

Then on Sunday, my day off, I would find something fun for us to do. We could go see a movie or go to a museum and Sammy can get his geek on.

I smiled, content with my plan of action, releasing a satisfied sigh as I finally began to give in to my body's desire for sleep.

"Godto sleep already Dean." I heard Sam order, apparently just noticing that I was still awake.

"Don't boss me around, Bitch." I slurred tiredly.

"Jerk."

I grinned at the teen's response and fell to sleep thinking about how fucking lucky I was to have this kid for a little brother.

The kid with the stupid puppy-dog eyes and long girly hair.

The self-sacrificing kid with the massive guilt complex and complicated thinking.

The kid who I would do anything for.

My kid.

Sammy.

* * *

><p>Note: How do you like the switching point of views? To confusing? Good variety? Let me know what you think. Please commentreview, I love feedback! Thanks for reading! - Sam


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